


I Would Still Know You

by Sabulum



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: (love & muscles aka the name of adora's autobiography), Biting, Catra has sex with She-Ra to deal with Feelings, Claws, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Identity Issues, Insecurity, Love, Muscles, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Scents & Smells, She-Ra Big, Size Difference, Strength Kink, are more people gonna write, let catra say fuck, or do I have to do it myself, written before Season 4 but HELL YEAH IT'S CANON NOW BITCHES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabulum/pseuds/Sabulum
Summary: If Catra wastes time, she knows she'll change her mind. She already wussed out once before. Best to just get it over with as soon as Adora walks in the door—"Catra!" Adora beams, still flushed from her morning training regimen. "I wasn't expecting you to be up this early.""Will you have sex with me as She-Ra?"
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 889
Collections: She-Ra





	I Would Still Know You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fun-Sized](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16928229) by [CViperFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CViperFan/pseuds/CViperFan). 



**"If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still know you." - Lang Leav**

— — —

There's a long moment of silence, during which Catra decides that she wants to die.

"You want me to... what?"

Adora looks equal parts shocked and puzzled, and her face is slowly turning pink. Her jacket is only half-way off her shoulders.

"You heard me."

Catra is not going to say it again. Asking to fuck She-Ra is the sort of thing you only do once, and it either goes your way or it very, very much doesn't. Either way, there's no going back.

With clear hesitance, Adora finishes removing her jacket and throws it on the end of their bed. "Why—um." She clears her throat. "Why?"

"I'm just curious."

"You're just curious. About having—"

Adora puts her hands on her hips, straightening as if that will counteract her rapidly increasing blush.

"Right, so that's obviously a lie. Wanna try again?"

Catra scowls, trying to think of an answer that Adora will accept. Besides the truth, of course.

Her tail lashes. She finally settles on; "Everyone's obsessed with her or something. I wanna see what all the fuss is about."

"By... um, having...?"

"Yes!" Catra blurts. "I mean, I dunno! Why the hell not? I wanna see what all the fuss is about!" She throws her hands up as if that's all there is to say, which it most certainly is not.

The chair she's on creaks as she leans against it, crossing her arms on the back—which is in front of her—and splaying her legs so that her claws can knead the ground. Her ears point solidly backwards, as they have been from the moment the stupid question left her mouth.

Adora eyes her with clear skepticism, but thankfully drops her hands from her hips. "Okay. Catra. There are a lot of reasons 'why not.'"

Catra glares at one of their obnoxiously gauzy purple curtains. For a moment, Adora looks like she's going to start checking those reasons off on her fingers.

"I just—what made you _think_ of this? It's kind of out of the blue. You've never even kissed me as She-Ra." There's a furrow between Adora's eyebrows. She shakes her head helplessly. "And what do you mean, 'see what all the fuss is about'? Since when have you cared about other people's opinions?"

Catra looks down, unable to keep her claws from digging into the chair's expensive silk. "That's the dumbest thing you've ever said to me."

Adora pauses and thinks that over.

She purses her lips, tilting her head in apology. "Well. I dunno. There's a lot of competition on that front."

"Damn straight," Catra mutters. She has always cared what people think. Especially when they're thinking about Adora.

With a heavy sigh, Adora finally advances fully into their room. "I'm serious, though. Are you—are you jealous?"

"No." Catra tries to muster a sneer, but it's half-hearted at best. "If I was jealous, I'd have exploded the minute I came to Bright Moon. Other people gawking at you is nothing new."

Adora looks uncomfortable. "I guess."

"Literally. They've been doing it for _years_." 

"Okay—"

"The fact that you can turn tall and twice as hunky has nothing on that time with the—"

"Catra!"

"—spandex singlets—"

"Okay, I get it!"

Catra lays off only because of Adora's blush, retreating back into her sulk and ducking so that her face is half-concealed by the chair. They both remember the All-Cadet Wrestling Competition well enough, anyway. No lesbian who lived through it could possibly forget.

Adora pauses, biting her lip, but confirms; "You'd tell me if you were jealous?"

"I promised, didn't I?" Catra mutters into the silk cushion.

Being jealous of people being attracted to Adora is like trying to fight a force of nature. Not only misguided, but futile.

"...Yeah. I guess you did." Adora sighs and runs a hand through her mussed ponytail, mussing it even further, freeing some strands to fall around her face. They join the ones already slicked by sweat to her forehead. "Sorry, I just... I really wasn't expecting to come home to this."

She looks tired. Maybe cornering her first thing after her morning training session was a bad idea.

Catra's claws retract from the chair as guilt sinks in. Her eyes fixate on the pastel fabric in front of her nose.

"I thought you hated She-Ra," Adora continues.

Catra flinches at her simple, matter-of-fact tone.

"I don't. Sort of. I mean, it's complicated." She struggles to keep her tail still. "I don't _hate_ her."

Adora's brow furrows even more, and she makes a noise of confusion. She scrubs her face with both hands this time, trying to brush the errant hairs back atop her head, into her hair-poof. They fall right back down.

"I don't hate _you_ ," Catra adds hurriedly.

"Yeah. I know."

It's whispered, but confident. Confidence that it took a long, long time for Catra to earn.

They stare at each other.

Finally, Adora takes a deep breath.

"I'm not saying no," she says. "I'm surprised, yeah, but—if you want to, uh—" Calm as her demeanor is, Adora can't finish that sentence. "I'm not opposed. I'll hear you out. I promise." She visibly swallows. "Just... tell me why?"

The fact that she phrases it as a question, tender and a little uncertain, is what makes Catra give in. She looks disheveled and sweaty and serious and anxious, and Catra is weak for her. When Adora hesitates before outstretching her hand, like she's not sure it will be welcomed—something she hasn't done in _weeks_ —Catra does not hesitate to take it. It's as much to reassure Adora as it is to draw strength from her firm grip.

Her ears pin even flatter.

"Can we just forget I said anything? Brush this off as a moment of temporary insanity and move on?"

Adora raises her eyebrows, incredulity painted across her face.

"That's a 'no'?"

"You think you get to ask a question like that and then pretend it never happened?" Adora searches her gaze, then flashes her best attempt at a smile. "I'll never let you live it down, anyway, so why not commit?"

"Fine. Sure. You're right."

Scratching the markings on her arm, Catra avoids her—girlfriend—lover— _Adora's_ eyes with a feeling simmering in her chest that is not quite embarrassment. Or, well. Not only embarrassment. There's a bit of shame mixed in there, too.

How can Catra tell the truth without telling her the truth?

Because she can't share the thought that started all of this, on the heels of a surreal dream.

That She-Ra still scares her.

She still struggles to recognize Adora in that other body. She-Ra is always "her;" never "you." Is the "Big Lady." Is euphemisms and nervous laughter and shaky sideways glances, and an unwillingness to touch, even in the most casual of ways. And this is one of the fastest ways she can think of to overcome that, because it's one of the most Adora things that she could possibly do.

The problem is, Catra shouldn't be struggling with it at all. Adora is clearly invested in this whole Princess business—has settled into it, now that peace is restored; is happy—is, frankly, happier than Catra had ever expected one of them could be, and so what does it mean that Catra has trouble dealing with this aspect of her new life? What does it say that she still flinches, instinctively, when Adora transforms into the Big Lady?

They're supposed to be better, now. Healed. So why is she still scared?

"I only ever see, y'know, when we're fighting," Catra manages. It's as close to an admission as she can get. "Those aren't exactly pleasant associations, especially since—"

Since most of that time, they were fighting each other.

"Is it wrong that I want to get to know your alter-ego without getting my ass kicked?"

Catra risks a glance up to gauge Adora's reaction, ears swiveling. At her familiar thoughtful look—the one she gets when Catra has just suggested something potentially life-altering, like sharing a bunk or climbing to the top of the Fright Zone together—Catra resists the urge to hunker down behind the back of the chair again. She forces her tail to still, twining it up and around her waist instead.

Adora has only grown more adept at reading her with time; she nods, just slightly, and caresses the back of Catra's hand with a thumb.

"I guess that makes sense."

"Also, the muscles aren't a bad incentive," Catra can't help adding.

Adora blinks, then smirks and releases Catra's hand with a playful swat. "That's what you said about entering the All-Cadet Wrestling Competition, too."

"And I was right, wasn't I? Loads of muscles."

Adora huffs a laugh, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. "Catra. We all know you only entered it to try and beat me."

"Nah, not just that. There were other things I wanted to do to you, too."

"Catra!"

Her squawk is a thing of beauty, and Catra smiles, tail-tip flicking ever so slightly where it rests against her thigh. Watching her best friend and secret crush throw down in a body-tight singlet had been simultaneously one of the best, and worst, experiences of Catra's teenage life.

Adora's blush returns with a vengeance, but she can't hide that she's amused, body twitching like she's about to tackle Catra right now. "You're—incorrigible. Just the worst. Did you know that you're the worst?"

"Yeah. I love you, too." Catra sits up a little straighter, grinning. Her ears twitch. "So? Has my honesty been judged worthy of a visit from the mighty She-Ra?"

Should she plan on going toe-to-toe with the Big Lady?

Maybe right now?

Adora opens her mouth, then closes it again and nods. "Yeah. If you're sure. We can try it."

Wow. Yup. This is happening.

"Of course I'm sure!" Catra forces a laugh. "Would I have suggested it otherwise?"

— — —

"This was a bad idea, right? This feels like it was a bad idea." Catra shifts backwards on their bed as Adora hefts the sword, toe-claws digging holes in the comforter.

Adora pauses, feet spread wide in a battle-ready stance and bathrobe incongruously fluffy in comparison. She lowers the sword again. "You suggested it," she says uncertainly. "We can always do this later—"

"No, no, do it!" Catra covers her face with a hand and flaps the other in a gesture to proceed, struggling to keep her claws sheathed.

She has to get used to She-Ra eventually. Why _not_ give it a shot before breakfast?

Adora had insisted on showering before they did this—which Catra regrets allowing, not just because it masks Adora's comforting scent under bath products, but because it gave Catra time to reconsider—and her hair still drips water. It does nothing to make this seem less like a bizarre scene from Catra's subconscious.

Adora's brow furrows in an expression of concern that she has perfected over the past three years. Catra ensures that her ears, claws, and tail are all cooperating, but Adora looks her over for a long moment, and something in her frown says she knows that Catra is bluffing. Still, she slowly raises the sword for a second try, shuffling her feet closer together. It looks less like a battle stance this time and more like she's trying to swat a bug off the ceiling.

More water drips to the floor. Catra's ears twitch at the sound it makes.

"You're sure," Adora asks again.

"Yeah, yeah, get on with it!"

"Okay," Adora says softly. "For the honor of Grayskull."

She doesn't yell it. It just adds to the weird, dream-like quality, that she says her stupid catchphrase in one of the softest voices Catra has ever heard. Catra didn't even know she could transform without yelling.

An inexplicable feeling of warmth fills her chest, and lasts right up until the magic solidifies and Catra takes another breath. Then her eyes fixate on that burst of white and her claws gouge the mattress.

She can't help it.

She-Ra just _smells_ different.

The gentle smells of laundry and home and bath products are gone, exchanged for a taste in the air like lightning about to strike. An enemy stands before her, eight feet tall and primed to kill her with that damn sword; all of her instincts insist that it is so. That scent of power can only mean that there's about to be a fight.

Catra's entire body tenses. It's an effort to calm herself before Adora looks back down at her. She forces herself to blink, trying to look less like a cornered animal.

(Because she's not cornered. There's a perfectly good window right there.)

"Um. Now what?"

Adora lowers the sword to her side, fiddling with the hilt. There's hesitance in her too-blue eyes and uncertainty in the too-wide set of her shoulders. The usual glow that surrounds her dims to a muted spark.

It's Adora, Catra tells herself. Just Adora.

She keeps her claws buried in the comforter, just in case.

"Come here?"

After a moment, Adora does, slow, measured steps bringing her just within reach. She bites her lip nervously.

Her eyes aren't quite the right color. Her hair is too pale and too long. Her smell says _danger_ where before, even at their lowest point, it had only ever made Catra feel conflicted. But that anxious expression? That's all too familiar. Adora glances down at the sword like it's the awkward guest at a party, fidgets more, then props it against the bedframe so that her hands are free, blushing pink. It makes Catra smile despite the tension thrumming through her.

"You look like you did before we kissed the first time," Catra observes.

Adora rubs her neck sheepishly. She chuckles. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well..." She glances from herself to Catra, then back, and shrugs as if to say: can you blame me?

Giving a deliberately slow blink, Catra crouches with her toes digging into the edge of the bed. It puts her at roughly She-Ra-height. "I wouldn't mind if you did. Kiss me."

It's the same thing she said back then.

Adora's eyes dart down to her lips. She inches forward a little more, some of her nervous energy dissipating.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You're a sap, did you know that?"

Catra licks her lips, vibrating with an energy that's not quite excitement. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

First things first, though: she snatches that stupid tiara off Adora's head.

Adora blinks, then gives a startled laugh, glancing up. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry. If I could change the outfit..."

"It's fine." Catra hucks the tiara with barely a glance, letting it clang to a stop in a random corner. "I've always wanted to do that, anyway."

Adora has inched forward more, laughter drawing her instinctively closer. She unclips her cape for good measure, letting it fall in a puddle of red around her feet, and reaches out for Catra—but stops herself half-way. Her hand hovers awkwardly in the air—

And that? Adora faltering, like she's not sure her touch will be welcomed? _Again_? After hard-won weeks of finally, finally feeling comfortable with each other?

Catra cannot let that stand.

With sudden determination, she grabs Adora's hand and lifts it to her face, ignoring the thrill of alarm that shoots down her spine. She presses a kiss to Adora's palm. It's larger than she's used to and calloused in the wrong places, and Adora's eyes go very, very soft.

"It's okay if you touch me," Catra insists, ignoring the scent of ozone that fills her nose, coating the back of her throat. "In fact, that's kinda the whole point."

Adora's fingers dance across her cheek, then all the way down the length of her arm, raising the fine peach-fuzz in their path like her touch is charged with static electricity. Super-strength be damned: she takes Catra's hand again so gently it's like she's afraid she'll crush it, threading their fingers together and staring down at Catra's extended claws.

"Are you sure?" she asks quietly.

Catra heaves a half-sigh, half-growl. "Adora—"

"I promised that I would start listening to you, and I am. I'm trying. I just..." Adora's brow furrows. "I want you to be comfortable. I hate when you're uncomfortable around me."

"For the last time, I'm fine! I promised _you_ I'd tell you if I wasn't fine."

"I know, but..."

But Adora still looks uncertain.

She agreed to this because Catra asked, and she is nothing if not chronically, recklessly altruistic. She agreed because she has been making a real and concerted effort to take Catra at her word, and to do things that Catra says she needs her to do. But in hindsight, of course Catra could never hide how unnerved She-Ra makes her. Of course Adora already knows when Catra has avoided so much as brushing shoulders with her up until this point.

Catra's an idiot. All this fidgeting, the hesitance—they're honest, yeah, but Adora isn't always so open about revealing such things. How much is she forcing herself to show it so that Catra _sees her_?

"You just smell different," Catra admits, squeezing her sword-rough fingers in an attempt at reassurance. But it's hard to be reassuring when she can't keep her claws from pricking Adora's skin. "Let me get used to it and... it'll be fine. Honest."

"I smell different?"

"Yeah. She-Ra always has."

"Oh." Adora's brows raise, then lower, as if she isn't quite sure whether or not to ask what that means.

With a grumpy sound, Catra drags Adora's other big hand up into the tangle of her mane. "Stop overthinking. Just shut up and kiss me, will ya?"

Adora opens her mouth, but then shuts it obediently and kisses her.

It's chaste at first. Catra quickly changes that, because she doesn't know how to tackle things at anything less than full force; her tongue coaxes Adora's mouth open again for better reasons than talking. Catra was expecting her to taste like lightning, and she's not disappointed. A thrill shoots down her spine, equal parts enjoyment and alarm, and she leans up into Adora because her only other instinct is to pull away from the power that's so close to her, and she _won't_. She refuses.

After a moment's hesitation, Adora reciprocates, and Catra's fur stands on end at the crackle of energy between them.

Her claws find their way to Adora's waist and dig gouges between her ribs. It's not on purpose. Adora inhales sharply, jerks back—but then presses forward with more urgency, threading her fingers deep into Catra's mane. It makes Catra flinch and scratch down instinctively, but she doesn't have time to regret causing pain before Adora is shivering and moaning into the kiss.

Oh. Right. It'll be harder to hurt her like this.

The thought makes her heart pound, and she fights the unsettling instinct to rake her claws down as hard as she can. Strange as Adora's large hand feels, she tugs Catra's mane with just the right amount of pressure to make her fingers flex and her toes curl in pleasure. Catra presses into her, and her fangs itch to draw blood. She wants to be closer. She wants to flee. She wants to fight. It's a storm of conflicting signals.

It takes an effort to pull back, but Catra does so that she can grin. There's only the faintest edge of wildness to it. "See? Nothing to worry about."

Adora exhales a ragged breath, looking half-wrecked already. "I can't tell if you're trying to kiss me or fight me."

"A little of both."

"I had a feeling." She glances down to where Catra's hands are still tense, claws stabbing into her. They've drawn pinpricks of blood.

Catra is quick to yank them away.

"Sorry—"

"It's alright," Adora interrupts, calmer than Catra expected. "It doesn't feel bad."

"What? Being _stabbed_?"

"Yeah."

Catra leans back on her heels, blinking at her girlfriend in disbelief.

A flush works its way down Adora's neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her shirt. She cuts in before Catra can speak; "What will make you more comfortable with me, do you think? With my... er. Smell?"

Good question.

Catra smooths down the tiny cuts on her ribs with the pads of her fingertips. Her tail lashes, ears flicking in thought, trying not to be distracted by the tense muscles beneath her hands. The extremely solid, defined muscles.

"Let me touch you," she decides.

Adora blinks, then sags in relief, giving her trademark dorky laugh. "That's it? Easy! Pff. I can do that, no problem!"

"I'm not so sure." Catra glares, curling her tail around Adora's leg and leaning forward threateningly. "Try not to get handsy. In fact, try not to move at all, okay? Don't do _anything_."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Not so easy."

It is not a demand that plays to her strengths. Adora is nothing if not bad at keeping still.

Adora takes a deep, steadying breath. "Right. Got it."

Idiot.

Toe-claws digging into the comforter for balance, Catra leans forward and kisses the endearing blush high on one of her cheeks, claws settling on her sides again. She nuzzles into Adora's neck, brushing some of her long hair aside so she can plant her mouth there and suck—and that, at least, is nice. She always likes seeing her hair free of its ponytail; likes making a mess of it; likes when she looks rumpled and undone. It's a sight that is Catra's alone, and Catra takes pride in causing it each and every time.

Adora hums as she moves on to another spot, and Catra bites down harder than she would normally, making her gasp before lathing the spot with the rough of her tongue. She tastes lightning and salt in equal measure, magic tingling against her. Her hands explore all the while, tracing lightly over Adora's shirt to content herself that she isn't moving. Won't attack her. One hand fists in her hair, tugging her head back to establish some sense of control.

It doesn't hurt that Adora melts into her grasp with a whine.

Under the She-Ra scent there is a hint of familiarity, she realizes now. A trace of Adora-smell. It's stronger this close to her skin and, moving up the column of Adora's neck, Catra chases it, trying to find where it's strongest. Trying to leave marks there. To claim it.

 _Can_ she leave marks?

Even if she does, they won't translate to _Adora's_ body.

The thought makes Catra bite down again, possessive and harsh. Adora makes a new, interesting sound as pinpricks of blood blossom beneath her fangs, and Catra sucks at the spot she's chosen with single-minded focus. Seconds later, Adora loses the challenge that was set to her and rucks Catra's shirt up, caressing her stomach with a long, needy whine.

Catra pulls away to laugh. "What did I just say?"

"Sorry," Adora says, high-pitched and breathless. One hand roams the soft peach-fuzz of Catra's sides. "Got—got distracted. Why, um. Why don't you usually bite me that hard?"

She feels the difference, huh?

Well. Duh.

"You're tougher like this." Catra tilts her head, eyeing the faint marks with satisfaction and disappointment both. They're not nearly as dark as she would like. "I'm usually more afraid of hurting you, but that barely even broke skin. Normally you'd have started bleeding awhile ago.

She isn't expecting the sudden, intense way that Adora looks at her. "I wouldn't mind if you did."

"What?"

"Break skin." Adora lifts a hand, touching the already-healed nicks. "You can be rougher with me. I can take it."

Oh.

Catra stares.

"N-Noted."

Adora is rubbing the darkest of the marks with one finger and staring at Catra's lips. "Can I kiss you?"

"Of course. You don't have to ask—"

She tugs Catra forward off her perch and does, curling fingers in the hair at her nape and leaning down to capture her mouth.

Leaning down a _lot_.

On her feet, Catra becomes freshly, intimately aware of how much shorter she is than She-Ra. It sends a thrill through her despite the awkwardness of armor poking her in the chest.

Adora pulls her close almost desperately, lifting her heels off the ground in an effort to press their bodies together. Her tongue explores every inch of Catra's mouth, and her hands tremble with the effort of not exploring the rest of her as well. But Catra hasn't said that it's okay.

When she pulls back, she's breathing heavily—a rare sight, for the Princess of Power—and her eyes have gone alluringly dark. Arousal makes her scent even stronger.

"How would you like to touch me now?"

There's no mistaking that low, throaty tone. Catra responds to it without even thinking. She strokes her thumbs across Adora's stomach, rucks her shirt up with her knuckles and dives in again with purpose.

Some repressed back corner of Catra's mind has always agreed that the Big Lady is hot—she has _eyes_ , plus it's _Adora_ —but apart from a few regrettable nights in the Fright Zone, Catra has never given much thought to She-Ra's body. Especially after she and Adora mended their fences.

But... wow.

Adora has always been muscular, but _this_ is something else. She's chiseled like a fucking statue. A statue of a goddess, no less. Catra is not the least bit prepared for how weird it feels to map the contours of an unfamiliar body, finding hard planes where she is used to hints of softness. She forges forward anyway, using her claw-tips the way she knows Adora likes. She scratches up her sides, gently, and breaks their kiss at Adora's gasp; presses her nose into her neck instead, chasing the familiar scent beneath the thrum of lightning, letting it soothe her. At her coaxing, Adora removes her shirt with more fumbling than usual, and Catra bites her neck again, reveling in how it makes Adora whimper. She draws fine white lines up her arms; across her shoulders. She maps the muscles of her back with lingering caresses.

"Does this feel different?" she can't help but ask.

"Yeah." Adora inhales sharply when Catra nips her earlobe, eyes fluttering shut. "Everything feels a little different like this. I'm used to it, though. Mostly."

Right. She's not shaped the same. Everything must feel slightly askew.

Catra hesitates, tracing a line across Adora's collarbone with the whisper of a claw. "Good different, or bad?"

She maps the spot where a familiar burn scar lives on Adora's body. She-Ra's skin is flawless, but Catra licks the spot anyway with the rough of her tongue. It makes Adora sigh in the most delectable way, hands twitching at her sides.

"Um. G-Good. Normally."

"So this is good?" She scratches down her abs. 

"Yeah," Adora breathes, arching into her.

"And this?" her whisper ghosts over Adora's skin as her fingers tease lower, tracing the hem of her shorts.

" _Yeah_. It's all just kind of—"

Adora trails off, but Catra doesn't need her to finish, sliding claws beneath her waistband for the briefest of moments.

"...New?"

"Yeah."

She doesn't fight the same as she used to, either, Catra thinks. Not in this body. Her proportions are too different.

Will she fuck the same?

Catra shivers in anticipation. With a moment's hard work, she sucks another mark into the pale expanse of her lover's shoulder, fixated on leaving proof of ownership on flawless skin. Either way, Catra will find out. She-Ra is _hers_ , just like every other part of Adora, and Catra is going to learn everything there is to know about her.

She tosses her own shirt aside and licks a trail down Adora's throat. Amazingly, she keeps still even when Catra bends to tongue at her nipple, trailing claws down her thighs and teasing over the heat between her legs—but from the fists trembling at her sides, it takes an immense amount of effort for her to obey. The sight sends another thrill of excitement-alarm through Catra, this time landing firmly on the side of desire. She likes to watch Adora strain. She especially, she decides, likes watching Adora strain like this, with all that power leashed at Catra's command. Her fingertips brush the soft skin of Adora's inner thigh; she scrapes lightly at Adora's breast with the tip of a fang, then teases her nipple with sharp flicks of her tongue alternated with slow, long drags, drawing a long whine from her. Finally, she latches on to suck and watches Adora's arms twitch upwards, the movement aborted at the last second with a force of iron will.

Humming in satisfaction, Catra works her tongue in tight circles and waits...

"Can I touch you yet?" Adora pleads.

Right on cue. Catra pulls back to muffle a laugh against her ribcage.

"Yeah, idiot. Go ahead."

"Oh, good."

It's a statement of pure relief. Adora pulls her up with a hand on her neck and bows to meet her in a long, exploratory kiss. Lightning floods Catra's senses; sparks between their lips; shivers across her fur at Adora's touch; at the arm that wraps around her and draws her closer, sliding through the fluff that trails down her spine. Where she touches, Catra's fur stands on end.

And the idea that Adora has so much power at her disposal, but will not even _touch_ Catra without permission—the realization that that thrum of electricity is, not just safe, but is entirely at Catra's disposal—is _hers_ —

She growls and bites down on Adora's lip. This time it draws blood. Adora cries out against her mouth, and the sound goes straight to Catra's cunt, her arms and tail wrapping around Adora possessively.

"Are you—" Adora tries to speak between fierce kisses. "—more comfortable—" She stutters when Catra's hands slide beneath her waistband to grab her ass. "—with, ah—with—?"

"Yes." Catra presses full-length against Adora's body, rapidly getting used to the feeling of hard muscle against her belly. In her hands. "Take me to bed. Now."

Adora gives a wordless noise of assent, then her wandering hand drops to Catra's thigh and lifts her effortlessly off the ground. Catra's heart leaps out of her chest at suddenly being airborne, and she clings to Adora with all five limbs before realizing—it's not necessary.

Adora is _strong_.

She walks Catra backwards with one hand kneading her ears and the other holding her up like she weighs nothing, long fingers splayed under her ass. Catra's heart rate accelerates. Adora doesn't even notice, too busy pressing open-mouthed kisses against Catra's throat, lifting her just a bit higher for easy access; she crawls into bed on her knees and deposits Catra in the very center of the plush mattress, as ordered, kneeling with a leg on either side of her.

Catra stares up at her with wide eyes, suddenly wishing she'd asked Adora to pin her against a wall instead.

Adora has the audacity to blink. "What? What'd I do?"

Fucking—

Like she doesn't even know.

Something must register, because she looks from Catra down to her hands, then flushes all the way to her chest. "Oh. Yeah?"

"Yeah? _Yeah_?" Catra just shakes her head, very aware of Adora's calves pressing against her thighs. "I don't understand how you can be so sexy and so oblivious at the same time—"

She cuts off when Adora lowers to her hands and knees over Catra's body, penning her in. Gold hair falls in a curtain around her, blocking out the rest of the world, and Catra may or may not mewl as Adora hovers inches above her with something revelatory in her expression. She supports herself on steady arms, almost-but-not-quite touching down the entire length of Catra's body, like the mid-point of a pushup. Her smile is a thing of beauty.

"You like how strong I am?"

Catra shivers, arching up to close the tantalizing distance between them. "I've _always_ liked how strong you are, Adora."

Something in Adora's eyes, in her pleased grin, tell Catra that she didn't know that already. Which, what the hell?

"How did you not know this? We were just talking about wrestling!"

"I don't know, I guess I thought you—that it's just because of how—" Adora cuts herself off with a shake of her head, and Catra gasps when Adora slides a leg between hers, suddenly teasing. "You like that I can pick you up? That I can carry you around with one arm?"

Fuck.

"Yeah," Catra breathes.

"I could probably do that normally, too," Adora admits, "but as _She-Ra_ I could hold you against a wall without even trying. Or, even without a wall. Just you. Your hands around my neck. It would be easy. I wouldn't even break a sweat."

She licks her bottom lip where Catra bit it, and Catra stares fixedly at her mouth.

"Maybe we can try, later." It has the low tone of a promise. "You wrap your arms around my neck, and I'll hold you up and finger you. What do you think?"

The image of being fucked standing makes Catra's eyes roll back. Her hands shoot up to grasp at Adora's biceps, hips jerking against Adora's thigh, the feeling of muscle and heat against her making the fantasy sharp and vivid in her mind. "Adora—"

"You like that I'm taller than you, too. Don't think I didn't notice. You like looking up at me."

She looks down at Catra.

Catra curses the layers of fabric between them with sudden, vicious ire, clawing at Adora's arms to try and get her to move. "I'm wearing _way_ too many clothes for you to talk to me like this."

She shoves insistently, ignoring the brief jolt of—fear? Arousal?—that shoots through her when she can't so much as budge Adora's weight. It doesn't matter, because Adora obeys her with a soft laugh, hair tickling Catra's face as she pulls away.

"You're right, yeah, sorry. I guess we should do something about that." She lifts Catra's ass off the bed with one hand. "Here. Allow me."

Catra does mewl this time as her leggings are yanked down, tail freeing itself to wrap possessively around Adora's waist. She kicks them the rest of the way off, and Adora's stupid skirt-shorts-thing joins the rest of their clothes on the floor, and then Adora's thigh is pressed against her again, but better, because Catra can _feel her_. She pants, spreading her legs to put that warmth and pressure right where she wants it, too needy to be embarrassed about how wet she is already. Her tail curls to pull Adora closer.

"Is this why you liked to watch me wrestle?" Adora rocks down slowly, biting her lip in that way that drives Catra absolutely fucking nuts. "You liked watching me pin the other cadets? Grapple them into submission? Show you how strong and capable I was?"

Catra wants to growl, "obviously," perhaps with a pointed addition about _skin-tight singlets_ , but it comes out less than coherent when Adora's fingers caress down her stomach, catching in the long fur between her legs.

"What about when we fight?" Adora whispers. "Do you like it when I pin _you_ , too?" She splays her broad hand on Catra's abdomen, pressing down with just enough force to keep Catra from bucking up. "'Cause I could do it right now if you want. That would be easy, too, and you know I'd let you up the moment you asked. I always would. I've always been weak for you."

Catra grinds up with a demanding yowl, shuddering all the way down to her toes, and Adora lets her, dark eyes fixed on her like she's the most riveting thing in the world.

"Why are you so good at dirty talk all of a sudden?" Catra demands. "Did I inspire you or something?"

Is _this_ what it takes?

Fuck. Catra's not going to survive this revelation.

"It's okay, right?" A faint line forms between Adora's eyebrows, deepening the way it does when she's overthinking. "I didn't mean to—that is, if you don't want me to—"

She starts to pull away.

Catra grabs her by the hair, yanking her back in place.

"You're... fucking sexy." It's hard to formulate a response when Adora's thigh is still there for her to grind against, slick now with Catra's slick, but Catra manages. "Keep doing... exactly what you're doing. I'll tell you if... if I want you to stop."

Adora breathes what might be a laugh. "Okay."

She shifts—moving her leg away, and Catra most definitely does _not_ whine at that—but only so that she can replace it with her hand, and, oh. That's fine. That works, too. That works even _better_. Catra bites her lip, fangs digging in as she strains up against the finger that teases her, and she has to close her eyes against how Adora _fucking_ looks at her while she strokes through her folds.

"Adora..."

Adora's only concession is to tease her with another finger.

"Adora!"

"I know. Believe me, I know." She leans in to kiss Catra, open-mouthed and panting. This is taking its toll on Adora, too. Still, poised above Catra with two fingers stroking her slit—and _not_ where Catra wants them stroking—she has the audacity to ask; "My fingers are bigger like this. Is it okay if I put one in you?"

"Adora, if you don't get in me right now, I'm going to claw your fucking eyes out." Catra scratches down her chest for good measure, thrilling at Adora's sharp gasp.

She moves instantly, and Catra pries her eyelids open so she can watch Adora shift downwards, sliding off to lay alongside Catra for a better angle. Her eyes are wide and wanting, and her finger eases into Catra up to the first knuckle. Even so, she's—so damn slow—sliding it out, then back in, testing—still biting her _fucking_ lip, and Catra is so wet for her that it's like torture.

"Stop teasing and do it!" When Adora pulls back for the third time, Catra hisses and rocks up, driving her in fully. She gasps at the satisfaction of finally being filled.

Adora freezes, but then relaxes with a rapt, open-mouthed expression as Catra grinds up into her hand. She follows Catra's lead and starts thrusting gently, crooking her finger, and—and Catra really didn't consider the implications of her fingers being _longer_. She takes full advantage of it, working her hips up with a desperation that takes even her by surprise. Before long she's panting, pressing up into Adora's solid weight and whining with the need to be even closer, driving her finger against that perfect spot deep inside.

"Good?" Adora's voice cracks down the middle.

"Fuck. Yes." Catra turns so she can bury her face in Adora's neck—in her scent, thick with arousal—and mouth at her, twining an arm up around her and grasping at her long hair, mussing it with her claws— "More. I need more."

Catra bites back a yowl as Adora puts her thumb to work on her clit. It's a trick that she only mastered recently, and it's easier now that she has bigger hands. Adora grins at the realization; she always was a fast learner. Her finger in Catra starts stroking more insistently, but still not rough enough for Catra, pressing against her back wall over and over, but not with enough pressure, and her thumb works in small, tight circles in a counterpoint that drives Catra mad.

"More!" she demands.

"Okay. Okay, hold on."

Catra groans as Adora teases the second finger in just as hesitantly. But when Catra tries to buck again to force her deeper, she stops entirely, giving a ragged exhalation.

"Catra. I don't want to hurt you."

"I swear on Hordak's fucking tombstone, Adora! Do it already!"

Yeah, her fingers are a little thicker, but not so much that Catra can't take it.

"Are you s—"

" _I need you!_ "

It's a snarl that gives more away than she intended. She's about to walk it back—to add an addition, _anything_ for further context, anything less than that blatant honesty—but she can't, because with that honesty, Adora obeys. Catra smothers a yowl in her shoulder, biting down as hard as she can at the sweet stretch of her broad fingers. Adora cries out, and Catra absolutely cannot resist sucking atop one of the marks she's already made, rocking up against her and tugging on her hair harshly. Adora trembles under her mouth, giving little breathy noises. She starts up a shaky rhythm of thrusts, interspersed with quiet curses as Catra darkens the marks on her throat, yanking Adora's head back to grant her fuller access. The fingers stretching Catra open grow rapidly less coordinated. Catra needs her to be at least twice as careless.

"Harder," she breathes against the soft skin beneath Adora's ear. All that fucking power at her disposal and Adora is so damn gentle— "Wanna feel you, want you straining—wanna feel you working hard for me—"

Adora gasps at that, surging against Catra's hand in her hair so that she can lean forward. Catra doesn't loosen her grip, pulling hard and hissing in pleasure at the look on Adora's face as she fights her on it—wins, easily, but not without battling the sharp thrill of pain in her scalp—all so that she can kiss Catra thoroughly. She increases her pace, other hand propping her up shakily so that she's half-atop Catra, bent at an angle that has to be awkward to maintain. But her fingers and her thumb work tirelessly until she's sweating—panting in time with Catra's rapid breaths, obeying Catra's yowls to be rougher, faster—

She works hard, for Catra. She strains for her.

Catra whines high and needy, clinging to Adora's shoulders as she chases the pleasure building in her.

There are times in this form when Adora glows like the setting moons; like something ethereal and untouchable. Times when Catra doesn't recognize the person staring back at her, like She-Ra has somehow taken control entirely.

This is not one of those times.

This is all Adora; her strong fingers working Catra to the edge; that look of focused intensity on her face, as familiar to Catra as her own breathing. Her hair falls around them both in a disheveled mess that Catra only ever sees when they're in bed, plastered to her chest and shoulders. Her eyes are bright, her face flushed with arousal and exertion, and her neck is littered with bruises that Catra worked hard to put there. Her lips are kiss-swollen, the lower one striped red. Even the smell of lightning is weaker, now, than the musk of sex, filling Catra's nose with _Adora_ and _home_ until her senses are swimming with it.

Catra's cries morph into a litany of "please," breathed against Adora's skin as she arches almost entirely off the mattress. Electricity spikes. Her hips stutter.

" _Catra_. Catra, I've got you. I've got you. Come on..."

Her hand flies down to Adora's forearm, feeling the muscles there flex with each thrust into her, and that does it—Catra rides her fingers desperately as she comes, gasping Adora's name.

Catra loves her. She loves her. She loves her.

Adora gasps, too, pressing her forehead against Catra's so that their breaths intermingle. She works her through an orgasm that crackles like lightning, surging through her body, making Catra quake and whine for long, exquisite seconds. Her fingers ease back toward gentleness, toward her natural state of touching Catra so tenderly that it's almost fucking painful, and Catra whines as she digs sweet scratches in Adora's forearm, still rocking up long after her high has ended. Pleasure ebbs to a low thrum in her belly. Adora's breath on her face is hot and intimate, and it's all too much.

"I love you, too," Adora whispers, making Catra realize that she'd been speaking aloud.

Catra surges up to kiss her. At the same time, she clenches around Adora's fingers, guiding her to slide out with a hard grip on her forearm, relishing the feel of her on the way out.

Adora stares, wide-eyed, when she pulls back.

"Roll over," Catra demands.

Adora does, flopping on her back so quickly that the bed shakes. She clutches the mattress with both hands, panting with anticipation. Her enthusiasm rips an unintentional hole in the comforter. Between that and Catra's claws—yeah, that thing is ruined. Adora doesn't even notice, still staring as Catra climbs to her knees and rakes hungry eyes down the long line of her body. Her gaze lingers on Adora's desperately clutching hands—the tense, coiled muscles in her arms—the hard plane of her abs—

"Beautiful."

She bends, almost reverently, to mouth at a dainty breast. Adora cries out beneath her.

A purr builds in Catra's chest, rumbling out of her in satisfaction. " _Mine_."

"Yours," Adora breathes, arching up with a hiss as Catra kisses a wet trail down her stomach. "Please. Catra, please—"

"Don't worry. I've got you." Catra nips, possessively, lovingly, at Adora's inner thigh, then buries her face in her cunt.

The sounds Adora makes have Catra thirsty for her again. Clawless fingers slide down between her legs, circling her clit with rapid strokes while she eats Adora out. And things may feel different as She-Ra, may be strange and skewed like her center of gravity, but this is not fighting; this is them, is the same, and Catra knows well enough by now how to make her come apart. She's liberal with the rough flat of her tongue, and teasing with the tip; she caresses her inner thighs with the whisper of claws, and presses her legs wider demandingly; she lets the rumble of her purr vibrate on Adora's clit, and Adora is coming within seconds, shouting so loud that Catra's glad they have a room all to themselves.

Catra curses and buries her face against Adora's thigh as she comes again, overwhelmed by Adora's taste and scent all around her.

She returns to awareness, seconds minutes or hours later, at Adora's hand in her hair. A feather-soft touch traces over her ears, making them twitch. Catra blinks slowly and looks up. Mismatched eyes meet blue ones, and Catra no longer sees She-Ra when Adora grins at her.

— — —

Later, after what is _definitely_ not seconds, Catra collapses face-first in their mountain of pillows.  
  
"Mercy," she whimpers, muffled by the fabric.  
  
Adora laughs and lets She-Ra's form disappear. Catra knows this because the trace of lightning-scent disappears, and also because the hand that lands between her shoulderblades is smaller. Familiar. The mattress moves a bit, and when she turns to look, Adora has followed her in collapsing, just as boneless. She sighs into an overly-plush pillow and turns a tired smile on Catra.  
  
"Don't worry. My stamina wasn't gonna last much longer, either."  
  
Catra grins at that. She reaches out to tuck a strand of hair back into its silly poof. "I'll take that as an accomplishment."

"You should," Adora says seriously. "It's very impressive."  
  
Catra settles into their nest of a bed and can't help but stare at the incongruous picture that Adora makes in her fluffy bathrobe. Her hair is in a perfect, if still slightly damp ponytail. Her lip is no longer split, and her neck is free of marks. She doesn't _look_ like they just had lots of rowdy sex. But apparently she's still tired, and she has the perfect lax attitude of someone who has just been thoroughly fucked. She looks like she doesn't intend on moving for the next half hour. On top of that, the light of the moons striking her makes her positively _radiant_ , like there's still some magic in her, lingering in the wake of her transformation.  
  
Or—maybe she always is magic. Maybe it's just part of her.  
  
Fucking phenomenal.  
  
Adora raises her eyebrows as the silence drags on.  
  
"Y'know, you're staring at me. Some people would consider that rude." She props herself up on an elbow to pull Catra closer.  
  
Realizing how much her expression is giving away, Catra schools it and clears her throat, allowing herself to be moved. "Sorry. It's nothing. Just thinking."  
  
"Uh-huh. About what?"  
  
Wincing, Catra buries her face against Adora's side and admits; "You."  
  
Adora's laugh is a thing of beauty. It also makes Catra blush furiously.  
  
Catra sucks a few new marks into her shoulder, just to even the score.  
  
— — —  
  
_Even later_ , once she is content that Adora looks thoroughly claimed again, Catra curls up in a content ball at her side and does not move from the pile of pillows she's built around herself.  
  
"Was it, um..."

Adora trails off. Clears her throat. Her hand is carding idly through Catra's mane, pausing every so often to scratch behind her ears, slower than usual. Catra can practically feel her overcomplicating things in that dumb brain of hers.

"Was it good?" she finally asks.  
  
"Idiot." Catra's voice contains the rumble of a purr. "Of course it was. You're extremely sexy and talented, even as She-Ra. Good job."  
  
Adora exhales in relief. A sideways glance shows her puffing her cheeks out and releasing the breath slowly. "I'm glad. I was worried."  
  
"Yeah, I know. You worry about everything."  
  
Adora says nothing at that; just lays back and strokes down Catra's head. Catra's tail flicks up to curl around her arm, then slides to her waist where it rests contentedly.  
  
It must be past breakfast, now, if the quality of the light outside is any indication. The others are sure to be worried about their extended absence. Adora is not known for missing meals. Catra supposes they should probably get up soon or something. Not 'cause she's _concerned_ or whatever—they're Adora's friends; Catra doesn't care—but just for Adora's sake, y'know, 'cause Catra cares about _her_. She's gotta eat and shit. It's been a long morning for her.  
  
But getting up and putting on clothes can wait.  
  
For now, Catra nestles closer and buries her nose in the warmth of Adora's neck. She relaxes into Adora's hand massaging her ears. And she lets herself feel safe, and loved, and settled, in a bed that smells like them.  
  
That smells like home.  
  
Catra can't lie: she's relieved to have Adora back in her own body. It's the one that she knows, loves, grew up with, almost died for... would willingly die for again. It's just _superior_ , in her opinion, to the eight-foot-tall warrior princess. She likes Adora's muscles exactly the way they are.  
  
But, she guesses, maybe She-Ra's not so bad.  
  
She shivers a little, recalling the taste of lightning on her tongue.  
  
Yeah. They'll definitely have to do this again.

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta-ed, so I apologize for any mistakes. HMU if you wanna help me proofread.
> 
> All the femslash in February made me want to write some of my own, and I'm procrastinating on my Arcana fic. To that end, I started three She-Ra fics last month. *sheepish grin* I just haven't finished the other two yet. Here's the first of my offerings to this new fandom!
> 
> What can I say? It's a great show that gave me a lot of big, gay feelings.
> 
> This fic is inspired by Fun-Sized by CViperFan. It's the ONLY other fic I could find with this scenario, and do you have any idea how disappointed that made me? So I wrote my own play on it with 500% more awkwardness and a smattering of identity issues because of who I am as a person. Kudos to CViperFan for writing the Strength Kink Catradora fic that we all deserve, and anything you notice that looks like it's referencing their fic... probably is. Now go read it if you haven't already!
> 
> And thanks for stopping by. :)


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